


The Clockwork Nightmare

by Digigal_transbian



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:07:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27847398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Digigal_transbian/pseuds/Digigal_transbian
Summary: Legends tell of a predator that lives in time and feeds on space, heralded in by the sound of a ticking clock.
Kudos: 1





	The Clockwork Nightmare

Tick.

Legends tell of a creature that lives in time and feeds on space. They say the entity haunts a few planets near the Galactic center, rarely ever leaving their hunting grounds.

Tock.

The first records of any encounters with the creature come from the logs of Captain Jackson Hook of the UCS Neverland. The ship was found abandoned, orbiting a desolate planet. Rescue parties transported aboard only to find nothing but dust and old data logs. The ship smelled vaguely of fish oil and decay when they arrived, with blood stains painting the insides of the ship a deep crimson.

Tick.

The captain's logs showed a recording of the monster. The image was classified by the Anomalous Defense Foundation to be on a Need-To-Know basis, only captains would ever be told of its existence. However, the stories grew from the few that knew of it before the ADF stepped in. Word spread quickly of the terror of time, the haunting clock, the clockwork nightmare.

Tock.

They say you'll hear it before you see it. The tell-tale rhythm of a grandfather clock echoing in a room without one. The sound follows with light footsteps that are far too easy to miss. Warmness will grow on your back before burning agony tears through you, like lightning tears through a tree. 

Tick.

To any stellar sailors, the sound of the ticking clock is a harbinger of doom. Ever since the Neverland Incident, all analog clocks are relegated to an airlocked chamber with an emergency eject feature installed. If a single thing is suspected, the room is locked down more securely than the ship's brig, and if anything is found, then the room's atmosphere is decompressed into the abyss of space without a second thought. Either it dies, or they do.

Tock.

Each step the creature takes echoes through space and sound endlessly. It walks through time like man walks through space, leaving images of itself in a continuous path wherever it goes. It occupies a single space at all times, shambling around aimlessly until it finds sufficient prey. The wailing sounds of its claws dragging against the hallway walls screams when it knows it is alone.

Tick.

Twelve limbs are said to adorn its body. Its form changes constantly, keeping a vague outline but never staying the same. A consequence of being a time species, the ever changing nature of being everything you could ever be all at once making you difficult to comprehend. 

Tock.

It feeds on the unlucky, wracking their body with pain that echoes through their lives as countless points of time converge and devour their body, limb by limb. In every moment of the past, the limb is destroyed, a never ending pain for someone whose fate is soon to die.

Tick. 

The only thing left of those crewmates were the blood stains. The inside of the Neverland was torn asunder. Panels sat torn off the walls, consoles bore large gashes, the carpet followed a shredded trail.

Tock.

The clock keeps ticking.

Tick.

You know there isn't a clock in the room.

Tock.

You feel as if your time is up.


End file.
